


Play or Pay

by Deeranger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood As Lube, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bottom Sam, Brother/Brother Incest, Character Death, Choking, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Demon Dean Winchester, Dominance, Evil Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Forced, Gay Sex, Hair-pulling, Head Injury, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, Intimidation, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Physical Abuse, Poor Sam Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Rape, Reader-Insert, Rough Oral Sex, Sam Winchester Whump, Scared Sam Winchester, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Smut, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Top Dean Winchester, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22563871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger
Summary: The Winchester brothers show up out of nowhere when you have your very first encounter with the supernatural, rescuing you from evil forces that apparently want you dead. Scared and on completely unknown territory you decide to go with Sam and Dean when they offer to protect you - but things go from bad to worse when you suddenly wake up in a room you don't at all recognize; naked, cuffed and trapped with an injured Sam... and a very changed Dean with black eyes.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is based on the Tumblr prompt: "Kitten, don't make me tell you twice!".  
> Please heed the warnings and read the tags - this is a dark fic and you get what it says on the tin.

The fingers in your hair tightened their grip, nearly ripping strands out of your scalp when Dean pulled harder and made you scoot towards him on your knees. Even though the linoleum floor was smooth and cold, the friction still managed to burn your skin and leave pink abrasions on it.  
  


“Open your mouth,” he commanded, voice flat and oozing with authority. A whimper made its way out of your mouth even though you had promised yourself not to show him how scared you were.  
  


“No,” you said, and you tried to keep your voice even, tried to keep it from trembling. You really tried your very best. Still, it came out as a shaky squeak, leaving the demon in front of you with absolutely no doubt in his mind that you were petrified.   
  


"Kitten, don't make me tell you twice!" he hissed, twisting the handful of hair hard enough to make you let out a cry. With cheeks burning and eyes watering you tried to avoid looking at Dean’s other hand, stuffed into his underwear and waving his hard length back and forth in front of your face. As if _that_ was somehow going to entice you. Suppressing a sob you feverishly kept trying to yank your hands out of the handcuffs trapping them behind your back, but of course the metal didn’t budge at all.  
  


“Dean…! Dean, stop it!”  
  


The hoarse voice instantly made you flick your gaze towards the source of it, fixing on Sam. He was still in a heap on the floor, curled halfway up into a ball from the vicious kick to his stomach earlier. You had thought that he was still unconscious because the blow that Dean had decided to deliver to his eyebrow a few moments later had split it wide open and made him drop to the floor like a bag of potatoes, out like a light.  
  


An annoyed huff escaped Dean as he looked down at his brother, black eyes glinting in the dim light. He was clearly discontent with the fact that Sam had decided to wake back up and interrupt his little play date. But he didn’t let go of you. Instead, his eyes just narrowed and a sly smile began to play on his lips.  
  


“Well, well. Look, who’s joining the party!” he said, hungry eyes settling on you while he lazily stroked himself. Clearly, he knew that Sam wasn’t a threat. Well, not yet, anyway. Because the tall hunter was still on the floor, dizzily struggling to get up on all fours and ultimately to his feet. But so far he didn’t succeed.  
  


“You don’t mind an audience, do you, kitten?” Dean asked and suddenly he slapped his hard member against your cheek, smearing sticky pre-cum all over it. Flinching you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out what was happening. Because it couldn’t be happening. Not this.  
  


“Leave her alone!” Sam yelled, straining to get to his feet – but he fell right back down, landing with a thud and a groan on the linoleum. Dean merely chuckled. But you knew that he wasn’t at all amused. Not in the slightest. Instead, there was a sort of danger in his voice that instantly made your blood run cold, made every hair on your body stand up straight as chills rolled down your spine like icy cascades of water.  
  


“Tell ya what… I’m gonna give you one last chance before I move on…” Dean said, looking down at you as his black eyes flickered back to the familiar, emerald green ones. Instantly you tensed. His hand was tugging on your hair, slowly inching your face closer to his all too interested dick, and you tried to resist the pull, not caring about the searing pain in your scalp.  
  


“Open your mouth,” he repeated, shaking you a little and yanking hairs out of your head to emphasize his point. Letting out a yelp you winced, trying not to let any tears escape your eyes. And then you pressed your lips into the thinnest line possible. Because you couldn’t do this. You wouldn’t. No matter what he was going to do to you, he was going to have to force himself on you. Because you sure as hell wasn’t going to suck him off willingly. He’d have to break your jaw to get you to open your mouth, that much was certain.  
  


“Kitten?” Dean said, his voice a rumbling warning. But you kept your lips pressed tightly together, shallowly breathing through your nose. A huff escaped him as he gave his cock a couple of long strokes, just glaring down at you through hooded eyes. Silence fell for a moment – only interrupted by heavy breathing and the scuffling of Sam’s limbs as he kept trying to get to his feet and failing.  
  


“Fine. Moving on then!” Dean said. Exhaling shakily you closed your eyes, waiting for him to snap your neck. Or maybe he’d settle for actually breaking that jaw of yours. But you didn’t know. And it scared you senseless. But then he started to loosen his grip on your hair, fingers slowly slipping out of the tangled locks. Almost gently. Frowning you cracked your eyes open a little, afraid to keep them closed but also too afraid to open them all the way.  
  


“Oh, Sammy?” he then said in a sing-song sort of way, fingers leaving you altogether. Confused you looked up at him as he started to move past you, giving you a solid shove on his way and making you tumble to the floor. Panicked you hurried to kick your feet, digging your heels into the linoleum and scrambling as far away from him as you could get. With a small thud your back hit the far wall, and you watched with wide eyes as the older Winchester closed in on his brother.  
  


“Kitten doesn’t wanna play with me…” Dean whispered, squatting down next to Sam. With a small groan the tall hunter managed to get up on his elbows, but that was as far as he was able to get before a hand grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back forcefully. A hiss escaped him and he had to crane his neck awkwardly to follow the pull when Dean lifted him up towards his face a little, staring at him with eyes that had turned pitch black once again.  
  


“But I bet _you_ will. Won’t you?” Dean whispered, puffs of his breath hitting Sam’s face in warm gusts of air that smelled like bourbon. Wincing Sam had his fingers wrapped around his brother’s wrist, trying to pry his hand off his hair as he glared back at him:  
  


“Dean, listen to me. You gotta fight this, you gotta—“  
  


“Or maybe I’ll just have some fun with our girl over here, mm?” Dean interrupted, a crooked grin spreading on his lips as he sent you a dirty look over his shoulder. It was accompanied by an equally dirty wink, and your stomach instantly churned. A guttural noise of protest escaped Sam’s throat as he let his free hand join the other, clasping it around Dean’s wrist and making his brother turn his attention back to him.  
  


“I’ll even let you watch,” Dean whispered, leaning down even further and getting so close to Sam’s face that their noses were almost touching.  
  


“What do you think ‘bout that, Sammy? Huh? You wanna see me tear her to shreds…?” Dean purred and tilted his head a little as he kept piercing his brother with an onyx glare that had seemed to grow even blacker somehow.  
  


“Don’t touch her!” Sam croaked, trying to get his long legs to cooperate and pull up under him. But he didn’t seem to have regained enough muscle control to get his limbs to obey, and they just collapsed right back down on the bloodstained linoleum. His head was swimming and it felt like he had sustained a serious concussion. Or worse. Because everything was sailing, thumping, hurting.  
  


“If you behave, then maybe I won’t,” Dean said in a voice so low that you almost couldn’t hear it from where you sat. You couldn’t really make out the words, but you did hear the ominous tone with which they were delivered. Swallowing dryly your gaze automatically flicked from one spot to the other, scanning every inch of the room for a key to the handcuffs or some way out of this – and finding none. Your eyes just ended up looking back at Sam, crumbled in a bloody heap, while his brother let out a dark chuckle into his face.  
  


“Please, j-just think! Dean, I know you’re in there! I know you can hear me, please, don’t let—“  
  


Sam was cut off by a hard strike to his cheek, forcing his head to whip to the side from the force of the blow. A grunt escaped him, stars sailing around in his field of vision aimlessly as his brother’s lips twisted into a snarl.  
  


“Shut up! It’s you or her…!” Dean spat, moving from his squatting position into a kneel. As his denim-clad knees landed on the linoleum he twisted the handful of his brother’s hair and forced his face down towards his crotch. Sam instantly tried to resist, but in this weakened state and with his head thumping away like someone was going crazy with a jackhammer in there, he couldn’t. Instead, he suddenly found his face being bracketed by Dean’s thighs and his rock hard dick only an inch from his mouth. Automatically Sam let out a yelp, letting go of his brother’s wrist to grip the thick muscle of his thighs, trying to push himself back and away from the throbbing length. Even though his vision was full of stars and clouded by a weird fog he couldn’t miss how drops of pre-cum were already starting to drool from the tip.  
  


“S-Stop! Dean!?” he yelled hoarsely, straining and shaking as the muscles in his arms began to fail him, making him slowly sink down into his brother’s lap and inching his face even closer to the eager erection.  
  


“Hey!!” Dean snapped, smacking Sam’s cheek hard enough to induce another wave of sparkly stars to enter his vision.  
  


“Weren’t you listenin’?” he asked, ignoring his younger brother’s attempt to squirm away.

  
“I said… It’s you or her! So, either you suck me off right now or I’ll make her do it while you watch. What’s it gonna be?” Dean said. His voice was flat and monotone, and Sam instantly froze by the sound of it, the words sending chills through him and making goosebumps rise by the thousands everywhere on his skin in a matter of seconds. There was no room for negotiation. None. He knew that. Still, his mind raced like crazy to try to figure a way out of this, an escape route, some sort of exit. But he came up short. Instead of finding any sort of answer to this, his mind just kept looping the same useless thoughts over and over again. The slightly ajar door was too far away for him to reach in this state, but maybe if he could just land a punch he would be able to- no, wait, that wasn’t possible. Or maybe if he played along he’d be able to stall his brother long enough for you to make it to the door- no, you were cuffed and wouldn’t make it past Dean fast enough. But maybe if he just pleaded better, his brother would hear him somehow? Maybe he could—  
  


“Last chance, Sammy,” Dean’s voice said, piercing the silence and breaking Sam’s train of thought. The impatience and annoyance lacing it was prominent and dangerous, and Sam knew that he was out of options. And out of time. A small whimper escaped him, and it kind of reminded you of a mix between a hiss and keening sort of sound. From your position by the wall you could feel your entire body shaking from fear, and you couldn’t help the tiny sob that escaped you. You couldn’t witness this. You couldn’t just sit back and watch Dean do this to his brother, couldn’t sit by idly. But what _could_ you do? There was no way out of the cuffs, no way you’d be able to get out of here… Not without risking your life and Sam’s in the process. As your eyes welled up you managed to lock eyes with the young Winchester and you thought you saw a hint of a nod. Just a hint. Along with a strange look in his watery, hazel eyes that seemed like he was trying to tell you that it was okay. You didn't know if you just imagined it though. He couldn’t possibly be okay with sacrificing himself like this just to protect you… Could he?  
  


“Alright…! Alright, just… Just don’t hurt her,” Sam said lowly, breaking eye contact with you. There was a new sort of sound to his voice that you hadn’t heard before. It sounded like something far too close to defeat. The dense knot of fear in your stomach grew a little bigger and a little tighter as guilt washed through you, leaving you to sob once more when you realized that you couldn’t get yourself to say anything.  
  


“Ah… In the nick of time!” Dean said cheerfully, hooded eyes glued to his brother as he stroked himself again, slowly tugging his foreskin back and forth over the sensitive head of his dick.  
  


“Better get to it then, don’t you think?” he asked, gradually pushing his brother further down towards his groin. The way the thick cock stuck out of Dean’s fly, red and angry and leaking, was obscene and so wrong that Sam suddenly wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up. But he had to ignore the way his stomach was churning and how bile was rising in his throat because he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Not unless he wanted to risk the demon returning its attention to you.  
  


With a lump stuck somewhere in his throat Sam stopped fighting the push on the back of his head and let himself get pressed further into his brother’s lap, squeezing his eyes shut when he felt Dean’s body heat radiate onto his face. It was a matter of half an inch now. No more.  
  


“And don’t even _think_ about biting me. I promise you’ll regret it!” Dean hissed from up above. As his fingers began to card through Sam’s brown locks, he pushed his hips up just a little and nudged his erection against a slightly quivering bottom lip. The hint was obvious.  
  


Reluctant and with his mind reeling Sam convinced himself to just do what he had to. He couldn’t afford anything else. Cringing he parted his lips and let the spongy head of Dean’s dick rub against them, seeking entrance and twitching with excitement.   
  


A tiny moan spilled from the older Winchester when he felt the velvety texture of the lips below, letting pre-cum coat the pink flesh before he began to push in, slowly moving his hips upwards.  
  


“Oh, fuck…” he moaned, fisting Sam’s hair once again as he slid the tip of his cock into the wet warmth of his mouth.   
  


Shuddering Sam couldn’t help but gag when the flared head pushed past his lips to leak fat drops of pre-cum onto his tongue, quickly coating his entire mouth with the salty liquid. A cough got stuck in his throat when Dean pushed in a little deeper, dragging the veiny flesh along the length of his tongue and nearing the back of his throat. Per reflex Sam tried to pull back, tried to avoid suffocating on the intruding length – but the mean grip on his hair didn’t allow him to. He was stuck.  
  


“That’s right, Sammy… Choke on it,” Dean groaned. And then he bucked his hips, ramming himself down the unwilling throat with a vicious thrust. The reaction was instant. Spluttering around the hard shaft Sam coughed and wheezed as his stomach churned dangerously, threatening to rid itself of its contents. But Dean didn’t pull back. Instead, he just watched in curious fascination as tears started to stream down his brother’s face, cleaning away some of the blood and dirt there only to mix with streams of saliva flowing from the corners of his mouth.  
  


“Yeah, good boy!” Dean praised, reveling in the strangled sounds trying to escape Sam’s throat. But they turned close to soundless when he buried himself a little deeper, clogging up the narrow space completely and effectively muting the young hunter. Desperation instantly flooded Sam’s mind as he panicked, arms trying to flail and push Dean away – but his strength failed him. It failed him completely and his older brother easily held him down and in place.  
  


“No…!”  
  


You didn’t even realize that you said anything, didn’t even register it in all of your fear. But the low squeak of protest didn’t go by unnoticed and Dean whipped his head in your direction, black eyes instantly fixing on you and narrowing. You practically cowered just by the look in those pitch-black voids.  
  


“What was that, kitten?” he asked – no, purred – and he bucked his hips again, making Sam’s hands blindly try to grab the flannel of his shirt as he helplessly tried to push him away. Deprived of oxygen the young Winchester could feel himself beginning to sag, and he realized that the stars in his vision had given way to a black vignette cornering it. It was like looking down some long and dim tunnel. A tunnel that threatened to cave in on him at any moment.  
  


“P-Please… He-He can’t breathe…!” you heard yourself whisper, voice shaky and far too scared. In fact, you sounded kind of pathetic – even to your own ears. And Dean’s eyes narrowed some more as he stared you down, ignoring how his brother was now slumped in his lap, muscles twitching and flexing involuntarily as his throat bulged around the veiny flesh.  
  


“Well, if you shut up maybe I’ll let ‘im!” he snarled, bucking his hips once again but this time earning no response from the young man. And you didn’t dare to respond either. Instead, you held your tongue and prayed that Dean would return to ignoring you and that he would just let Sam up, let him breathe. Because it was a matter of seconds now before it would be too late. You were sure of it.  
  


“I fuckin’ hate interruptions…!” Dean hissed, and it felt like he could kill you with his glance alone. Trembling you fought to sit completely still and you lowered your glance to the floor in submission, not daring to provoke him any further. You should have kept your mouth shut in the first place. Why did you have to anger him like that? You should know better. And now Sam might have to pay for your ignorance, pay for it with his life.

  
Suppressing the urge to cry you tried to control your breathing, knowing that you could do nothing but just sit here and wait. Just sit here passively with your back against the wall and count every split second that passed by way too fast, quickly turning into two full seconds. Two full seconds that you weren’t sure if Sam could afford. Then you heard Dean let out a huff, finally shattering the silence and turning his head back to look down at his brother.  
  


“Seems like I really took your breath away, huh?” he said, and the amusement lacing his voice was as misplaced as it was horrifying.

  
“Can’t have that. C’mere…” he then grumbled, yanking Sam’s head up by the hair and finally letting the thick length slip out between his lips, freeing his airway in the process. As the engorged flesh left his mouth ropes of saliva and pre-cum followed it, instantly staining Dean’s worn jeans and the linoleum floor in dark blotches. And Sam twitched, nearly cramped, when he automatically heaved for air, filling his lungs to the brim with much-needed oxygen. Wheezing his eyes fluttered open – he didn’t even realize that he had closed them – and he coughed violently, vaguely registering how the tunnel vision began to fade as his oxygen levels started to slowly normalize.  
  


“Better now?” Dean asked in a mocking tone of voice, petting his head as if he was a sick dog that he really wanted to put down. Too panicked and too gone in a coughing fit Sam didn’t even have the energy to flinch away from the touch.  
  


“Aww, just look at you… You’re a mess,” Dean said under his breath, swatting one of Sam’s hands away as it clutched his flannel shirt in a hopeless attempt to just hold on to something, anything, to ground himself. It felt like he’d simply be washed away if he didn’t. Wheezing he tried to collect his thoughts which seemed to have scattered in all directions, pieces and fragments of them swirling around inside his head in one big, jumbled up mess – but the only thing he managed to grab a hold of was the intense feeling of dread mixed in with disgust. Sucking in one gulp of air after the other way too fast he tried his best to steady his breathing, to even it out just enough for his mind to stop panicking. Cursing himself internally he realized that he might have been suffocating before – but now he was hyperventilating in a poor attempt to fix it.

  
“You done?” Dean asked flatly, his fingertips playing with some sweat-soaked locks of Sam’s hair. He was clearly getting impatient.  
  


“’Cause you have a job to finish here, princess,” he added, annoyance now creeping into his voice and making new chills roll down the young Winchester’s spine. The way he spoke the words seemed to sweep away the very last remnants of doubt in Sam’s mind that Dean would let him go, would show him some sort of mercy. Automatically a whimper tried to escape him by this realization and it took everything he had to repress it. He didn’t want his brother to hear it. Nor the demon wearing him.  
  


“Unless, of course, you want me to take my business elsewhere?” Dean warned, turning his head to look over his shoulder and send you a suggestive smirk. 

  
A strange sound spilled from Sam’s lips, and it was impossible to tell if it was a cough or a sob. Still on the floor and with his face halfway buried in his brother’s lap, he heaved for air, and your heart dropped to the pits of your stomach by the sight of him. The otherwise so strong hunter looked absolutely lost as he lay there in a shivering heap on the linoleum, bloodied and utterly helpless while coughs kept rumbling out of him to stain the surface beneath with tiny dots of scarlet.  
  


“Alright. I can take a hint. What do you think kitten will look like with my dick down her throat? Think it’ll suit her?” Dean asked, starting to straighten up.

  
“Only one way to find out, I guess…” he whispered ominously as he lifted himself up a bit and motioned to lift up one of his legs as well in order to get to his feet.   
  


Your breath instantly hitched in your throat and you pressed your back harder against the wall, squashing your trapped hands against the bricks. Wide-eyed you watched as the demon began to stand back up, slowly turning his body towards you, black gaze fixing on you in a predatory way that you had never seen before. Pure horror flooded your mind and you let out a choked shriek, trying to back away. But the wall didn’t budge.  
  


“Oh, sweetheart, we’re gonna have so much fun…” Dean said, and his voice matched the look in his onyx eyes all too well. With a chuckle he turned further, preparing to stalk towards you – but in the same second a hand grabbed a hold of his ankle, long fingers clutching the denim of his jeans.  
  


“Wait…!”

  
The word echoed in the room, reverberating as it bounced off the walls. And Dean came to a slow halt, a victorious smile starting to slowly tug on his lips as he stood there, still glaring at you.

  
“What's that, Sammy? I’m not sure I heard you,” he said. And his smile grew a little bigger, making tiny crow’s feet spread around the corners of his eyes.  
  


“Don’t hurt her! Please…!” Sam rasped, drops of dried blood decorating his lips as he did his best to speak loud enough for his brother to hear him. While his fingers kept trying to cling on to his jeans, Dean’s smile grew even wider as his gaze stayed on you, locked and focused. It was almost as if he was sizing you up. Considering what to do next. And it felt like time just froze. Like the air was crackling with something, ready to blow up.  
  


“And why not? You don’t wanna play with me, so I might as well just—”  
  


“I’ll do it! I’ll do what you want…! Please, just… Just leave her alone!” Sam coughed, straining to keep clutching his brother’s jeans, fingers trembling as they threatened to give in to the fatigue and the pain and just let go.  
  


Dean revealed his teeth in a smile that would probably look dazzling under normal circumstances – but right now all it did was make bile climb your throat, made your heart try to leap out of your chest in sheer horror.  
  


“Oh, you’ll play with me now, huh?” Dean said lowly, finally breaking eye contact with you to look down on the curled up figure on the ground.  
  


“And why should I believe you?” he asked, nudging the tip of his boot against a rib hidden under the tanned and bruised skin. 

  
“Dean, please…! Please, I’ll-I’ll do as you say, I promise!” Sam said, suppressing another cough when Dean nudged him again, driving the nose of the leather boot into his stomach this time.  
  


“Yeah? Well, tell me then, Sammy…” Dean whispered, slowly starting to get back down into a kneeling position in front of his brother. As his fingers snaked into his hair and gripped it once again, he leaned down far enough for Sam to feel his breath on his face:   
  


“Are you gonna suck my cock?”  
  


The sentence swirled around in the young Winchester’s head, growing in volume as it ricocheted around like a stray bullet. And it hurt. It even seemed to trump the thumping, physical pain in there currently trying to override everything else.  
  


“Y-Yes… Yes…"

  
He couldn’t believe that he said it. Couldn’t believe that this word had actually made its way out of his mouth. It felt so incredibly wrong, and it certainly shouldn’t make his older brother smile down at him in the way that he was. He looked… excited. Almost like a kid in a candy store would look, all wide-eyed and hungry. Instantly Sam’s stomach flipped once more.

  
“You want it, huh?” Dean said, now leaning back on his knees a bit and stroking himself with slow and smooth movements, eyes sparkling and stormy with lust.

  
“Wanna suck this dick so bad, don’tcha…? Mm?” he asked as he let the tip of his achingly hard length rub against Sam’s bottom lip. Wanting to flinch away the young hunter barely managed to stop himself in time, but he ended up just scrunching up his face instead. And he didn’t move. He stayed in position with his face down in his brother's lap. Still, Dean’s grip on his hair tightened as seconds ticked by, tainting the silence with heavy and dangerous tension.

  
“Yes…” Sam croaked, knowing that he had to answer. And the victorious expression on Dean’s face intensified just as his smile did.

  
“Always knew you were a cockslut, Sammy,” he chuckled and patted the brown locks of tangled hair, brushing a stray strand away from his brother’s face and tucking it behind his ear.

  
“Go on,” he then whispered. But he didn’t move. He didn’t move as much as in inch. Instead, he just sat there with an expectant sort of look in his eyes, head slightly tilted and his dick resting heavily on Sam’s lip. Waiting. Bile tickled the back of the young Winchester’s throat when he realized that he was the one supposed to make a move and not Dean. Apparently, the demon wearing his brother wanted to humiliate him as much as possible - and he was definitely succeeding.

  
With his cheeks fiercely burning and dusting them a light vermilion color, Sam gritted his teeth hard enough to almost crack one of them. But he knew that he had to do what was expected of him. There was simply no other choice, no other way out of this – not unless he wanted to trade his pride for the life of the poor girl pressed against the wall behind Dean. And he couldn’t do that. He refused to.

  
So, he did the only thing he could do. He suppressed the urge to be defiant before it might override the sensible voice in his head, before it made him do something he would regret. And he parted his lips, convincing himself to poke his tongue out. He did it ever so tentatively and slowly. Gently, even. Because he couldn’t deny that he was more than just a little afraid to do something wrong and maybe anger the demon in front of him. And when the tip of his tongue finally closed the small distance, he squeezed his eyes shut – just as it softly lapped against the spongy head of Dean’s dick. And it felt like something inside of Sam broke then. As soon as his tongue made contact with the hard flesh he wanted to just curl in on himself. To just disappear right then and there and never come back.

  
Dean, on the other hand, let out a shaky sigh. His fingers loosened their mean grip on his hair, beginning to card through it instead in a strangely gentle way that almost perfectly mimicked one of compassion. Leaning his head back a little he groaned softly, reveling in the way his brother’s tongue reluctantly lapped at him. But he still didn’t move.

  
“Damn…“ he said, sounding a bit out of breath as he looked back down at his brother.

  
“Feels real good, Sammy… But I’m gonna need you to put a little more effort into it.”

  
An almost quiet whimper escaped Sam as the whispered words reached him and seemed to multiply in volume, ringing in his ears. And he did as he was told. Pulling himself forward on his elbows he managed to get just a little bit closer – but close enough to let the fat head of Dean’s cock slip past his lips and into his mouth. As the taste of pre-cum, musk and sweat spread on his tongue anew he had to fight not to gag, had to gather all of his willpower to keep from vomiting. Because this time it was different. This time he was doing it all on his own.

  
“Oh, shit… Yeah, that’s more like it!” Dean moaned, watching as Sam forced himself to tighten his lips around the hard flesh. Gradually coating it in saliva the young hunter tried to ignore how it throbbed and twitched excitedly in his mouth, nearly bouncing against the roof of it.

  
“Think you can take it a bit deeper for me?” Dean asked in a throaty purr. But Sam knew that it wasn’t a question. It was nothing short of an order, leaving absolutely no room for hesitation. With a mewl getting stuck in his throat he flattened his tongue and moved his head down a little, taking more of the velvety length into his mouth. As he did a moan escaped Dean and Sam could feel how the thick muscle of his thighs was trembling under his hands, clearly indicating just how much the demon was enjoying this.  
  


“Good boy,” Dean said breathlessly and it sounded like his gravelly voice had somehow dropped a note or two, turning it into an even deeper baritone.

  
“Now go faster,” he said – no, demanded – and he let his fingertips rub against Sam’s scalp, moving them around in repetitive circles in an intimate way that made the young Winchester’s skin suddenly feel like it was crawling with a million bugs. And with his eyes still squeezed firmly shut he did what he had to.  
  


“F-Fuck…” Dean grunted, watching as his brother began to bob his head up and down, bloodied lips sealed around the slippery shaft and producing sounds far too wet and far too filthy every time he moved.

  
Feeling lost and with his mind reeling, Sam was sucking in shallow breaths through his nose, trying to ignore the way his brother’s body was responding. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t distract himself enough to miss how the throbbing dick in his mouth seemed to grow even bigger, filling with more hot blood every time it slid in and out. And he couldn’t come to terms with it. His mind simply refused to take it in, refused to acknowledge what was happening.   
  


“If I didn’t know better I’d think you’ve done this before,” Dean said, smiling down at his brother with a new sort of gleam in his pitch-black eyes that hadn’t been there moments earlier. Sam wasn’t able to see it though.

  
Carding his fingers through his hair like a makeshift brush, Dean watched in fascination as he kept disappearing into the hot wetness of his brother’s mouth, drops of saliva dribbling down the young hunter’s chin every time he took him in as deep as his throat would allow. A shiver rolled through him and he could feel how his balls were tightening and drawing up by every little lick of that warm tongue. And he knew that Sam felt it too.  
  


“Well… As much as I-ugh… As I appreciate this… Ahh…” Dean moaned, thigh muscles trembling and flexing under Sam’s palms when his hips began to jerk a little.

  
“This-oh, fuck… This whole third base thing…” he continued, voice strained as he played with some locks of his brother’s hair – only to slowly tighten his grip on them and pull Sam off his dick with a wet ‘pop’.

  
“… I think it’s time to take it home,” Dean then said, black eyes sparkling.  
  


Knitting his brows together Sam gasped for air, just breathing heavily against the twitching erection in front of his mouth while the words tumbled around inside his head. Confusion washed through him, and he suddenly found himself questioning how bad this head injury of his might be because his brother couldn’t possibly be implying what he thought he was?

  
“Don’t you agree?” Dean purred. And suddenly Sam felt a hand caress his ass through his jeans, fingertips digging into his buttock through the denim.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second chapter is based on the Tumblr prompt: "“Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules!”

With your mind spinning and your heart galloping away in your chest you once again tried to slip your hands out of the cuffs trapping them behind your back. As the metal pinched your skin and dug into the cuts already present on your wrists you stared wide-eyed at the scene unfolding in front of you. How could this be happening? How could this even be real?  
  


Yanking at the handcuffs for the millionth time with the same result you finally concluded that you couldn’t get out of them. They were simply too tight. Even though your wrists and fingers were all slippery with blood by now, it still didn’t help. And there was no key in sight, nothing of use whatsoever. Just bare brick walls and the blood-spattered linoleum floor. Nervously your gaze darted to the ajar door again – only to remind yourself that you wouldn’t be able to reach it in time. Not while the demon was in this position in front of you. He would pick up on you moving right away, that was for sure. You needed him to turn his back to you completely before you stood a chance - and even then that chance would be very slim. Close to non-existent, in fact. Because you knew how fast this creature was. Still, you knew that you had to do something. You couldn’t keep sitting here and wait for your turn, and you sure as hell couldn’t bear to watch what Dean was doing to his brother either. No, you had to run, had to get out of here and get help. You just needed the damn demon to turn his back.

  
Teary-eyed your glance flicked from the door and back to Dean when you heard Sam let out a yelp. It was a short sound – almost a little shrill - and your eyes grew wider when you saw how the demon’s hand was grabbing and kneading the young hunter’s ass through his jeans, strong fingers massaging and eagerly groping.

  
“What do ya say, Sammy? Ready to go all the way?” Dean purred, grabbing the waistband of his brother’s jeans when he weakly tried to move away from him. 

  
Held in place Sam shook his head and instantly regretted it when the sparkly, white stars in his field of vision seemed to multiply in numbers and grow into a grayish fog as the pain in his head exploded. Letting out a groan he tried to turn over, tried to move on to his side and out of this vulnerable position – but Dean wouldn’t let him.

  
“Now, now… Don’t test my patience,” Dean chuckled in a humorless tone of voice as he reached around him, fumbling to undo his belt buckle. A protesting sound escaped the young hunter from somewhere deep in his chest, and he squirmed the little he was capable of – resulting in the thumping pain in his head turning even more vicious. Trying to prevent the curious fingers from opening his belt he pressed his pelvis against the floor as hard as he could, hoping to deter the demon by squashing his fingers.

  
“Son of a—“ Dean hissed, but Sam didn’t hear the rest. Everything turned into a high-pitched, monotone ringing in his ears when suddenly a fist collided with his ribs, nearly driving itself in between them. A strangled sound escaped him when all air was punched out of him, the force of the blow making his vision go all white. As red-hot pain rippled through him and threatened to knock him out, he could feel Dean yanking his head up by the hair, hissing in his ear.

  
“Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules!” he said, a thin spray of saliva accompanying the words.

  
“You remember the rules, don’t you?!” he snarled, forcing Sam’s head to turn in your direction. As soon as his eyes managed to fix on your trembling form by the wall he tried to speak, tried to say something – but no sound could come out. Instead, he wheezed for air, automatically curling up a little as pain kept shooting through him, zinging off one nerve ending only to bounce off the next.

  
“Or do I have to remind you?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes. Trembling and gripping Dean’s wrist Sam let out a cough, trying to get his lungs to function and take in the air he knew he needed. 

  
“Nnn…” he groaned in a helpless attempt to get himself to speak. To just spit out the words. Still, his voice failed him and he didn’t have enough oxygen in his lungs to formulate a proper answer. Dean’s lips curled into a strange mix between a grin and a snarl.

  
“See, you behave, and kitten over here doesn’t need to get involved… Or—“

  
“Nnngh…!” Sam coughed, gripping Dean’s wrist tighter as panic began to spread in his mind. But his brother easily pried off his hand.

  
“Or! You break the rules and, well... I go play with her instead,” Dean dead-panned and tilted his head as he stared down at his brother.

  
“I thought we established that already, but apparently it didn’t sink into that big head of yours, did it, Sammy?” he said and let go of his hair. With a light thump the young hunter’s forehead hit the linoleum, and once again pain zapped around inside his skull, leaving him to see double.

  
“But maybe, if you ask real nice… I’ll change my mind…” Dean said lowly – almost in a whisper – as he got up once again, turning his attention to you. A smile played on his lips, and instantly you shuddered, trying to make yourself look as small as you possibly could while attempting to just push your back right through the wall.

  
“D-Dean…” Sam managed to rasp, straining to lift his aching head from the floor. By now everything seemed to be clouded in a thick fog that he was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be there. And his brother didn’t respond. Instead, he was just eyeing you hungrily, his eyes flickering back and forth between emerald green and jet black. And then he took a step towards you. Instantly you let out a small shriek, unable to keep quiet as panic flooded your system.

  
“Pl-Please…!” Sam croaked, stretching out an arm to catch his brother’s leg before it moved out of reach. But he realized that it was too late for that when Dean took yet another step towards you.

  
“M’sorry! Please…! Dean, I’m sorry!” the young Winchester burst out, voice hoarse and desperate. And this time his older brother stopped – but he didn’t turn to face him. Instead, he just stroked himself lazily, still glaring at you as you cowered in front of him.

  
“What do you want me to do then?” Dean asked and the malice creeping into his gravelly voice was prominent, oozing from him as his lips formed a small smile. 

  
A choked sob escaped Sam when he tried to get up on his elbows - and failed once again. Squeezing his eyes shut to stop the world from spinning and to collect his scattered thoughts, he fought not to let panic completely take over his mind. Panicking never helped anyone.

  
“I… I w-want you to…” he started, but it felt like the words somehow slipped from him. Like he couldn’t find them in the mess of jumbled up fragments of thoughts inside his head. It felt like his skull was about to burst, and the stars in his vision kept growing brighter. Clinging to consciousness he let his gaze wander to you, tried to remind himself why he was doing this. Because his brother was waiting for a reply, and he couldn’t let him down. Couldn’t let you down. 

  
“Want you to…To t-take me instead…” he managed to say, and he ignored the way his voice shook. The way it cracked. 

  
“Then you better ask nicely,” Dean just said, still piercing you with his glare. He was right in the middle of the floor, standing between you and Sam and blocking the exit like a solid column of granite. He even looked much taller than he actually was. Or maybe it was just the angle. No matter what you knew that if he should choose to _‘play’_ with you, you would quickly be in a whole new world of pain… And you prayed that you wouldn’t be conscious for long. Still, part of you wanted to catch Dean’s attention, wanted to get him away from Sam. But at the same time, your survival instinct was screaming at you to keep quiet and still and just wait for the right moment. But what if that moment never came?

  
“Please…!”

  
The voice ripped you from your train of thought, and your glance darted from Dean to Sam. You were pretty sure that it was Sam’s voice you just heard – but it sounded so different that you suddenly had your doubts. Because it sounded nothing like him. At all. It suddenly sounded so fragile. Like complete surrender. Your heart sank in your chest just as a new set of tears broke free to roll down your cheeks.

  
“Take me… P-Please, Dean… Please…” Sam said, fighting to get his vocal cords to cooperate and speak loud enough. And Dean let the corners of his mouth curve up into a superior smirk by the words, excitement evident in his eyes as he slowly began to turn back towards his brother.

  
“Are you sure?” he asked in a sugary sweet voice, dripping with venom. Out of options Sam wanted to nod but thought better of it – because any movement he made seemed to trigger a flashflood of pain that washed away every single coherent thought in his head.

  
“Yes…” he said instead, and right then he wished that he could just disappear. Vanish into thin air. And he kept his gaze fixed on the bloodstained linoleum below as his brother began to kneel down next to him once again. As the floor squeaked under Dean’s weight, Sam tried to ignore the hands slipping underneath him, the way they fumbled with his belt buckle – and undoing it all too quickly. With a metallic clank it was opened, and eager fingers began to search for the pull tab on his zipper. It took everything he had in him not to move. Everything. Because there was nothing he wanted more in this world right now than to fight back, to toss and turn, to kick and scream. But he couldn’t. And he didn’t.

  
“Oh, I’m glad to hear that,” Dean smiled, tugging on the pull tab when his fingers finally found it. But as he sat there on the back of Sam’s thighs he realized that there wasn’t much room for his hand to work with, so he pulled at his brother a little to create some space between his groin area and the floor – allowing his fingers to easily unzip him. The sound of the jeans coming undone filled the room and pierced the tense silence like a needle would skin. As the denim peeled away, Sam felt how his brother’s fingers didn’t hesitate to grab him, a large palm covering and squeezing him through his underwear. A quiet whimper escaped him, but he didn’t move. Instead, he closed his eyes and rested his sweaty forehead against cool linoleum, hoping that maybe Dean wouldn’t make good on his threat. Because he couldn’t. No one would do something like that. Right?

  
“Let’s get this off, shall we?” Dean then said, hands grabbing the waistband of Sam’s jeans and yanking. In one smooth movement, they were pulled down over the young hunter’s ass - his underwear following it only to bunch right under the globes of his exposed buttocks. 

  
Instantly a gasp got stuck in Sam’s throat and by reflex he wanted to whip his head up, every muscle tensing and every instinct on high alert. But he forced himself to just stay still. To keep his forehead pressed against the soothing cold of the floor.

  
“Damn…” Dean muttered under his breath. It sounded almost like he was truly taken aback, like he was stunned by the sight in front of him. Sam shuddered when a calloused hand was placed on each ass cheek, gently feeling and rubbing the skin there.

  
“Even smoother than that pretty face of yours,” Dean’s voice commented, the rumble in it now laced with something wanton. Something that made Sam’s stomach flip and do cartwheels.

  
“Can’t wait to feel you…” he whispered, starting to let his fingers dig into the flesh, kneading it and quickly making it turn slightly pink. Tense and with his shoulders nearly drawn all the way up to his ears Sam tried to ignore it, tried to think of something else. Anything else, really. But he couldn’t seem to get his mind to do what he wanted it to – it just kept returning to that god-awful feeling of his brother’s hands caressing his backside. And Dean seemed to be delighted. It seemed his breathing had even sped up.

  
“Lemme just…” he mumbled and lifted himself a little, yanking Sam’s clothes further down his long legs until he could pull both jeans and underwear off completely. They landed with a soft thud on the linoleum somewhere by the wall, and Dean let out a whistle.

  
“Would you look at that!” he said, eyeing Sam's naked body up and down with a wolfish look in his black eyes.

  
“He’s pretty, huh?” he asked and turned his head slightly to look at you, one of his eyebrows raised into an inquisitive arc. As his gaze settled on you, you could swear that you were going to throw up out of sheer horror – but nothing came except a stomach cramp and a slight taste of bile in the back of your mouth. Frozen you just sat there, glance lowered and body shaking uncontrollably. Your mind was a swirl. Were you expected to answer? You didn’t know, and you weren’t sure if you could even get your vocal cords to cooperate right now. Sucking in one huge gulp of air after the other you felt another tear roll down your cheek, and you cursed yourself internally. How could you just sit here? How could you sit here and do nothing? _‘Because you’re dead if you don’t,’_ your mind piped up somewhere in the back of your head. And you knew that the voice was right even though it broke your heart, made it plummet to land somewhere in the pits of your stomach. You had no choice but to wait. Wait and pray that some sort of window of opportunity would arrive, a distraction, a turned back, anything.

  
A loud huff returned your attention to the demon in front of you, snapping you back to the present. Dean was just sitting there, one knee placed between his brother’s legs and the other on the outside of his knee, looking at you. A shudder rolled through your body. By now your mouth felt about as dry as the Sahara desert, but your eyes were overflowing, you realized.

  
“Yeah, he’s real fuckin’ pretty… Even prettier than you, kitten,” Dean said under his breath, and you wanted to sob when you found yourself wanting to let out a sigh of relief when he turned a bit, finally removing that jet black glare from you. As he looked back down at Sam he let a flat hand strike his ass, making him let out a shocked gasp.

  
“Bet you feel even better than you look, Sammy… How ‘bout we find out?” Dean purred, leaning down a bit to study the tense muscles trembling under the tanned skin. A red handprint was slowly beginning to form on Sam’s right ass cheek, and the demon let out a content humming sort of noise as he trailed a fingertip along the crease where buttock meets thigh.

  
Sam wanted to shout from the top of his lungs, wanted to protest - but he remained silent. And he didn’t move. Even when the finger began to ghost along his crack, gently caressing the skin there, he didn’t make a sound even though every instinct in him was screaming at him to fight back. 

  
“Spread your legs.”

  
The way Dean’s voice nearly moaned the words made Sam’s blood run cold, made every little hair on his body stand up straight. All color drained from his face as the sentence replayed itself in his head, threatening to shatter the little self-control he had left, poked at the defiance he fought so hard to keep hidden. 

  
“Spread your legs, baby. Show me you want it,” Dean whispered, his breath hitting the skin on his brother’s lower back as he bent down a little further. Sam squeezed his eyes shut so hard that the back of his lids turned a bright red. How could he possibly ask that of him? It was too surreal to be happening. And far too cruel.

  
Biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood Sam snapped for air as he pressed his forehead against the cool linoleum. A little pool of sweat mixed with blood had started to form on the gray surface, and Sam knew that tears were likely to be joining them soon. _‘What am I supposed to do?’_ his mind asked in a panic, and his heart did a painful double beat when he could only find one answer to that. God help him, he could only find _one_.

  
He nearly jumped when a light tap on his ass let him know that he was out of time. It was now. Right now. He had to act. There was no way out. Unable to repress the sob that tumbled out of him he strained to get his body to comply, shaking muscles fighting to obey the command his mind was sending them. But it felt so unnatural. So wrong. A whimper escaped him when lactic acid quickly began to build in every fatigued muscle fiber, long limbs trembling as he forced himself to move. And he let his legs part. Even though it defied every single thought, every instinct and emotion in his mind, he parted them.

  
“Thatta boy!” Dean said, and Sam cringed. Instantly a gasp tried to escape him when he felt the cold air in the room nipping at him, sweeping across his exposed and feverishly warm skin.

  
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want,” Dean said in a husky voice, and Sam couldn’t stop himself from letting out a mewl when a finger started to circle his entrance. His brother’s free hand had grabbed a hold of one of his cheeks, pulling the flesh to the side to fully reveal the furled, pink muscle. Silence fell. An awfully heavy silence, only interrupted by Dean’s breathing. Smoldering heat had begun to spread on Sam’s face, turning his bruised skin a fiery red, and he bit back a loud ‘ _stop_ ’ trying to spill from his lips.

  
“Here,” Dean then whispered, and Sam could feel him leaning down over him. It felt like his shadow swallowed everything, filled the room with blackness as dark as his eyes. Like it consumed him, ate away at him until Dean’s mouth was right next to his ear.

  
“Get these wet. It’s all the prep you’re gonna get,” he whispered, hot breath fanning across his nape and the side of his neck and making him sick to his stomach. In the same moment, he could see fingertips entering his field of vision, could see them out of the corner of his eye as they hovered somewhere next to his mouth. And they stopped there. 

  
Another mewl wanted to break free, but he did his best to bite it back – apparently, Dean wanted him to willingly prepare himself for his own violation. The thought sent a new spike of horror through his overworked mind, and he shuddered, trying to reason with the panicked, little voice inside of his head telling him to just lash out. But simultaneously that same voice was screaming at him to make it easier on himself. To swallow his pride. ‘ _Damage control,_ ’ it shrieked somewhere in the back of his head, the word looping over and over again like an LP record stuck in a groove. And finally, he parted his lips, trying to ignore how the bottom one quivered. And how his eyes had slightly begun to water. But the fingers stayed right where they were regardless of the invitation. His chest seemed to tighten a little.

  
“Not gonna do it for ya,” was Dean’s short remark. This time Sam couldn’t bite back the whimper that somehow made it out even though he had sworn to himself that he would stay as silent as the grave. He didn’t want to give the demon the satisfaction. And he didn’t want his brother to hear him either. With his eyes welling up a bit more he swallowed down a sob and lifted his head just a tiny bit from the linoleum – and instantly the pain in his skull tripled, the gray fog clouding his vision growing denser. Much denser. He found himself wishing that it would swallow him. That he could just pass out. Or maybe he should give in to the urge to resist and let Dean kill him? No, wait, the girl… He had to protect the girl. How could he forget about her? A pang of guilt washed through him and he tried to steel himself, tried to get his priorities straight. He had to.

  
A groan escaped him as he began to weakly inch towards the fingers, pain zinging through him like lightning bolts. And when he reached them he had to fight not to throw up – but this time it wasn’t because of the physical pain. No, this hurt on an entirely different scale. A much more terrifying one.

  
“Yeah, that’s right. Get ‘em nice ‘n wet,” Dean said when his brother finally managed to close his lips around the calloused digits. Wanting this to be over as fast as possible Sam let his tongue swirl around them, sucking them as far into his mouth as he could and coating them in as much saliva as his dry mouth could produce. Above him, he could hear Dean let out an appreciative ‘ _mmm_ ’, and he almost gagged around the fingers in response, his cheeks burning fiercely. He had never felt this humiliated before in his life. This degraded. Wanting to cry he nearly failed to stop another sob from rocking him when the fingers suddenly retreated from his mouth, dragging with them ropes of drool.

  
“Good boy,” Dean praised, and Sam could feel him shuffling on top of him. And then the fingers returned to his ass, slick digits pressing against his hole eagerly. And far too hard. A yelp escaped him even though he hadn’t given it permission to, and he shook as the tips of two fingers nudged and poked at him insistently, pressing and rubbing and pushing. It burned more than he had imagined. Instinctively he clenched, trying to keep the fingers from breaching him, keep them from tearing apart the tender flesh. But Dean only pressed harder, wiggling his fingertips in a cruel attempt to get the furled muscle to give in.

  
“C’mon, Sammy, lemme in…!” he panted in a mix between annoyance and excitement. Arousal was definitely present in the gravelly voice as well, making Sam’s gut churn painfully as nausea washed through him with a vengeance. And then Dean pressed harder. A lot harder. 

  
A strangled yelp escaped Sam, and he jumped as his body tried to jerk away of its own accord – but a strong hand slammed down on his shoulder, clasping on to him and holding him in place like a vice. And Sam felt the exact moment when his body caved. The moment when the last shreds of his dignity were washed away, evaporating like dew in blazing sunlight. As one of Dean’s fingers slid its tip inside of him, its nail catching on his rim and surely tearing it, Sam bared his teeth in a silent scream.

  
“There we go…” Dean smiled, black eyes raking over the shaking body beneath him. He seemed to revel in the choked noises his brother was trying so hard to suppress, hungry gaze glued to his index finger as he forced it in to the second knuckle. A panicked whine escaped Sam then, and Dean watched in fascination as his hands fumbled to find something – anything – to hold on to and finding nothing but unforgiving linoleum.

  
“Damn, that’s tight…! Gonna have to loosen you up a little. Don’t wanna snap my dick goin’ in,” Dean chuckled breathlessly. As the warm body hugged his finger and nearly cramped around it he licked his lips, pupils blown so wide that they swallowed up most of the emerald irises.

  
Wheezing for air Sam found himself letting out a string of small panting noises, eyes squeezed firmly shut and his heart hammering away like a chisel trying to shatter his breast bone from the inside. His hands abandoned the plan of grabbing something to hold on to. Because there was nothing there. Only blood and linoleum and darkness. Instead, he closed his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms hard enough to leave red marks in the shape of crescent moons on the skin there. He then opened them again – only to repeat. Open, clench, open, clench. It only took three times before blood started to slowly ooze from his palms, pain radiating from them. He tried to focus on that, tried to zone out on it. Any distraction was welcome. Still, his attention kept flicking right back to what Dean was doing every time he moved just a little, sparking a wave of white-hot pain to shoot through him, spreading like tendrils of agony right up his spine. It easily trumped the pain in his hands. Even the pain in his head seemed to pale a little in comparison. And then Dean added another finger, forcing it inside of him with a quick jab – making fresh shockwaves of pain ripple through him. 

  
It was far too much far too fast, and Sam let out a choked grunt, gasping for air. There was no time to adjust, no mercy. And not nearly enough saliva to slick the way. As the finger slid in next to the other one he felt how it dragged against his walls, probably tearing them in the process. He was pretty sure he could feel something warm trickling down his skin and beginning to pool under him. But he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure if he remembered how to breathe anymore. 

  
“Beautiful. You take it almost like a pro already,” Dean mocked, pushing the two digits in to the third knuckle and ripping a cry from Sam’s throat. But Dean just smiled wider as he began to fuck his brother with his fingers, pulling them halfway out - only to plunge them straight back in, leaving Sam to writhe on the floor.

  
Scrunching up his face in a pained grimace, the young hunter fought with all of his might to keep quiet, fought to swallow his cries before they made it out of his mouth because he knew just how much the demon seemed to enjoy it. And he didn’t want to give him that pleasure, didn’t want to give him anything. 

  
“So pretty for me,” Dean said, and there was no doubt in Sam's mind that his breathing had sped up significantly, leaving him to pant out the words in quick puffs of breath. And he couldn’t stand the sound of it, couldn’t stand how the so familiar voice could possibly be sounding like that while doing this to him. His mind refused to acknowledge it. Instead, it just spun around in a swirly haze of panic, repulsion and fear while nausea rolled through him again – because he was pretty sure that he could feel something hard and warm poking his thigh every time Dean moved. 

  
Teary-eyed Sam let his gaze dart from one spot on the linoleum to the other, helplessly trying to find something to fix his eyes on – and they ended up landing on you. With his head turned just a tiny bit, sweaty temple resting on the cool floor, he looked at you. And it felt like your heart did a painful somersault inside your ribcage as soon as you locked eyes with him. He looked so different. Like a cornered animal, wounded and scared. His hazel eyes seemed to well up even more when you returned his stare, seemed to look even more hurt than they already were. You wanted to reach out to him so badly, wanted to help him like he so selflessly helped you. But even though a heavy feeling of guilt was trying to make you do just that, the sensible part of you still knew that it would only make matters worse. Sitting here you still stood a chance at getting away once the opportune moment revealed itself. You just had to wait for it even though you couldn’t bear to witness this. But once that moment arrived you would be running for your life, getting help. For both of you. If Dean would just turn his back completely, if he’d just drop his guard and forget about you for more than—

  
“I think you’re just about ready,” Dean’s voice said, and Sam broke eye contact with you when his older brother wedged a knee in between his legs, forcing them to part further. Closing his eyes the young hunter turned his head back to rest his forehead on the linoleum, attempting to steel himself for what was undoubtedly about to happen. Still, everything seemed so unreal. So crazy. And far too wrong to be true. Maybe it really was some sort of bad dream after all? But the burning sensation that suddenly shot up his spine when Dean pulled his fingers out of him couldn’t possibly be a figment of his imagination. And neither could the blunt pressure that followed when Dean laid himself down on top of him, his chest pressed flush against his back and his pelvis against his ass.

  
“Aren’t you, baby?” Dean moaned, rutting against him a little. As the veiny length rubbed up and down his ass crack, Sam swore he was going to pass out from sheer terror, the gray fog in his vision instantly growing thicker when he snapped for air. But he stayed conscious, the fog refusing to swallow him completely. He didn’t know if that was good or bad – but he did know that should he pass out he couldn’t protect you from his brother. So, he clung to consciousness like a drowning man would to a boat.

  
“Aren’t you?!” Dean hissed, his fingertips digging into Sam’s shoulders and definitely making fresh bruises begin to form there under the old ones, creating a red and purple mosaic on his skin. Biting back a sudden urge to scream, Sam tried to even out his breathing, tried to control his shaking and ignore how Dean’s breath was hitting his nape and the side of his neck in fast puffs of warm air.

  
“Y-Yes,” he managed to croak. And it felt like his heart splintered into a thousand tiny shards when Dean hummed in his ear approvingly. It was a wanton sound that made him automatically stiffen, every tired muscle tensing up and attempting to go into fight mode – the only thing preventing him from lashing out was that little voice in his head chanting ‘ _protect the girl_ ’. And he knew that his body wasn’t in any condition to fight either – should he choose to try he would most definitely lose.

  
“Glad we’re on the same page,” Dean whispered in his ear. And in the same moment, he released Sam’s right shoulder to stuff his hand in between their bodies, quickly lining himself up.

  
As soon as the thick head of Dean’s cock began to press against him, new pain flared up to shoot through Sam’s body with enough intensity to nearly punch the air out of him. Because his older brother wasn’t exactly being gentle. Instead, he was pushing with what felt like his entire body weight, the blunt head of his cock feeling like a red hot poker tearing his skin wide open. Panic instantly rippled through the young hunter, blazing through his overworked mind and drizzling the gray fog in his vision with an army of new, sparkly stars.

  
“Ah!! Dean!! Dean, p-please...!!” he heard himself cry out, voice cracking and desperate. And Dean instantly stilled, fingers grabbing a handful of his hair to yank his head up from the floor with a rough pull. It was hard enough to rip hairs out of his head, but Sam didn’t feel it at all. He didn’t even feel the explosion of pain in his head. The only thing that existed right now was the all-consuming sensation of his brother’s dick against his clenched hole, pushing and pressing and feeling as solid as an iron bar.

  
“What?! Please what?!” Dean snarled, saliva accompanying the words and flying into the air like a thin spray. A whimper spilled from Sam’s mouth. As he craned his neck awkwardly, he could feel how Dean was practically panting against the side of it, and he was certain that he could almost taste the anger emanating from him. Pure anger, dark and malevolent. It was obvious that his brother had run out of patience. And that was more than just a little dangerous. A mix between a sob and a wheeze escaped Sam and he bared his teeth, scrunching up his face when Dean shook him by the hair.

  
“P-Please…!” he rasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

  
“Please d-do it slowly…” he begged. And he hated how his voice sounded. Hated how it trembled and shook and how much desperation dripped from every word. How he was basically begging his own brother to rape him even though he wanted to say _‘no’_ more than anything in the world. His stomach churned when Dean leaned down a little further, his lips close enough to ghost over the skin just behind his ear.

  
“Oh, that’s cute, little brother... But I’m afraid I don’t play that way,” he said, his voice dropping deeper and ending up in some dark register that Sam had never heard him use before. And then, without warning, Dean bucked his hips, making the spongy head of his dick force its way right through the resisting ring of muscle, breaching Sam's body in one rough, merciless thrust. As the tip of his cock slid inside the tight heat, chafing both of them in the process, Sam let out a bloodcurdling scream that bounced off the walls and echoed around the room. But he couldn’t even hear it. It might as well not exist, because the only thing his world consisted of right now was blinding pain which only seemed to grow in intensity, turning his vision a brilliant white color. 

  
“F-Fuck…!” Dean grunted, voice strained as he stilled just a little, catching his breath. He didn’t seem to mind the pain caused by the way too narrow and way too dry channel hugging his dick. After all, pain feels different when you’re a demon and it’s easily ignored if need be. But sometimes it can be somewhat entertaining as well, and that was exactly what seemed to be the case right now – because Dean’s grunts turned into moans as he resumed pushing, driving himself into the resisting body underneath him inch by inch.

  
With his brother’s fingers still entangled in his hair and forcing him to crane his neck Sam wheezed for air, the remnants of his scream still reverberating in the room. A new one was already building in his chest, threatening to rush out of his mouth even though he fought to keep it down. He wasn’t sure if he could though. Because he had never felt anything like this. Nothing in his entire career as a hunter could compare to this. No wound, no bite or poison was even close to measuring up to the amount and fierceness of the pain he was feeling right now, white-hot bursts of pure agony shooting through him by every tiny movement Dean made. It felt like his insides were being shredded, torn completely asunder. And there was no doubt in his mind that he was bleeding profusely, a warm pool slowly forming under him as streams of scarlet were trickling down his skin.

  
“You’re so fuckin’ hot when you scream,” Dean groaned, and a sob rocked Sam’s body before he could stop himself.

  
“Do it again,” Dean said, finally releasing Sam’s hair. As his forehead collided with the floor a new blanket of sparkly stars shrouded the young hunter’s vision, and for a split second everything turned black. But the alluring prospect of unconsciousness was ripped from him just as quickly as it had come, light and stars and fog flickering back into view when he slammed right back into reality. A choked mewl escaped him, fingertips scratching against the linoleum in a hopeless attempt to pull himself free from under Dean’s body.

  
“Scream for me, Sammy!” Dean moaned against the back of his neck. And suddenly he gave another vicious thrust of his hips, bucking hard enough to almost make his brother scoot an inch or two across the linoleum.

  
The excruciating feeling of flesh tearing from the inside was something that Sam could have ever prepared himself for. Not even in his craziest nightmares had he imagined that kind of pain could exist. As the thick length dragged against his walls, forcefully burying itself to the hilt in his body, he felt his mouth drop open – and he screamed. God help him, he screamed. He screamed louder than he had before. The sound was shrill and alien, almost like a wail – and he knew that he was giving the demon exactly what he wanted. Still, he couldn’t seem to stop.

  
“Yeah…! Yeah, that’s it, baby!” Dean grunted, and his dick twitched in excitement. Slamming a forearm down on the back of Sam’s neck he began to pull back out, his thick length pulling and dragging against soft and bleeding tissue until he was almost all the way out – and then he rammed himself right back in. And Sam couldn’t stay silent. It was like sound was just pouring out of him without any sort of filter or inhibition. Like he had lost the very last bit of control. 

  
As heavy balls slapped against his skin, Sam cried out in a voice he almost couldn’t recognize. It was loud. Raw. And even though it was egging the demon on, he couldn’t bite it back no matter how hard he tried. Tears were running down his face now as well, adding to the pools of blood and saliva on the floor and sticking to his cheek. The blackness from before flickered back into his field of vision and for a split second his mind disappeared – only to return just as fast – and a sob mixed in with a scream was ripped from him when Dean pulled back once again and started to roll his hips in earnest. The pace he set was brutal. Fast and rough thrusts were rhythmically crushing Sam into the linoleum, almost knocking the wind out of his lungs when Dean covered his body with his own, applying all of his weight. 

  
“Shit, you’re one tight fuck!” Dean grunted in his ear, out of breath. The tip of his tongue darted out to lick a long stripe up the side of Sam’s neck, and an appreciative noise rumbled somewhere deep in Dean’s chest. Sam didn’t even register it though. The only thing in existence was pain and fear and fragmented pieces of thoughts and emotions spinning around inside his head with such a speed that he couldn’t catch any of them in all of the chaos. Still, a tiny voice far away in the dark corners of his mind managed to whisper that at least now blood was slicking him up enough to make Dean slide in and out of him just a tiny bit easier. 

  
“Oh…! F-Fuck!” Dean growled, slamming against Sam with enough force to almost make him chip a tooth when he drove him into the floor. His forearm was still resting on the back of his neck like a lead weight, making it hard for him to breathe properly because his larynx felt like it was being crushed against the linoleum. The room was a swirl already and the lack of oxygen didn’t help one bit. Wheezing Sam heaved for air – gasping for it in between the noises that kept flowing from him in what felt like a continuous loop – and he realized that he had stopped trying to resist. With his legs parted wide and his knees bent at an awkward angle, he was just lying there, limp like a ragdoll, while Dean fucked into him over and over again.

  
“Takin’ my cock so good, aren’t ya?” he said, voice strained and heavy with lust. He was beginning to move slighter faster now, hips slowly starting to stutter a little with each vicious thrust.

  
“Knew you – ahh – would fuckin’ – ugh – love it, Sammy!” he grunted as he dug his fingertips into any and all skin he could reach, leaving new bruises to form beneath crimson scratches and pink welts.

  
Trying to form the ‘please’ and failing Sam grimaced, his face contorting into a mask of anguish when Dean’s thrusts grew erratic and his hips began to stutter more violently. It felt like the cock inside of him was growing even harder and impossibly big, leaving new lightning bolts of pain to shoot through him. The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud and vulgar and it filled the room along with the reek of blood and sex and sulfur. Sam’s screams had faded a bit now and were left out of the mix – not because his throat wasn’t still straining to cry out, but because it seemed like he had become so hoarse at this point that his voice failed him.

  
“G-Gonna fill you up, baby…! Fuck, gonna fill that tight little ass – ahh!!” Dean growled – and now his entire body seemed to suddenly tense, every muscle going rigid and almost cramping. Burying himself in Sam as deep as he could possibly go, he spasmed - just as an animalistic roar escaped him to bounce off the walls.

  
Sam let out a strange sound when he felt his brother’s cock twitch angrily inside of him, spurts of hot cum suddenly shooting from it and coating his insides. The hoarse cry tumbling out of him sounded like a weird combination of a sob, a scream and a hiccup. It almost didn’t sound human. And Dean groaned loudly in response, face buried in the crook of Sam’s neck while he kept bucking his hips wildly. Twitching and with his back arching he tumbled through the high of his orgasm, chasing the very last bit of it while he kept rolling his hips tirelessly to make sure that he was milking himself completely dry – and the way Sam’s hole quivered in an instinctive attempt to clench only helped him accomplish exactly that. 

  
As semen continued to fill him up, dribbling out of him to run down the base of Dean’s dick in sticky globs of white mixed with red, Sam’s mind seemed to go offline for a few seconds. On strike, it simply stopped registering anything. Blackness shrouded his vision once again, and he plummeted towards unconsciousness – but just like last time, he quickly bounced back to reality for some godforsaken reason. And then it hit him. As his thoughts picked up speed again, he realized that he had to come to terms with the fact that his brother had just raped him. His own brother had raped him and had gotten off on it. _‘It’s not Dean,’_ his mind whispered from somewhere, but it was hard to comprehend it. To believe that little voice. Even though he knew that it had to be right, doubt was still somehow creeping into his mind. Because it was Dean’s body on top of him, Dean’s hands bruising him, Dean’s dick buried deep in his ass and Dean’s cum that kept filling him up. It was Dean. But at the same time, it wasn’t.

  
“Fuck…” Dean said – no, the demon said it – and he breathed heavily against Sam’s neck, just lying there on top of him and crushing him against the linoleum while he regained his composure. His cock was still inside him, slowly going soft and making more cum dribble out of him, drooling down his thighs to form a pink pool under his groin.

  
“Knew you were a fuckin’ slut for my dick, Sammy…” he whispered and placed a soft kiss on the sensitive skin behind Sam’s ear. It made the young hunter flinch, but otherwise he didn’t move. He didn’t dare.

  
“Didn’t know you were a screamer though. Can’t wait to hear you make those noises for me again. What do you think, kitten? Didn’t he scream pretty?” Dean asked and turned his head from Sam to fix his gaze on the far wall. And instantly his eyes flickered from green to jet black.

  
“Kitten?!!” he growled, whipping his head in the direction of the door when he found himself staring at nothing but bare bricks. The slightly ajar door was now pushed open a bit further than before, letting a tiny breeze enter the room to swirl around softly.

  
A furious snarl instantly escaped the demon and he lifted his weight off Sam's back, his softening dick slipping out of him in the process and making more globs of semen and blood gush out. 

  
Dazed the young hunter winced, cringing at the feeling all while sucking in a huge breath of air when the suffocating weight on top of him finally disappeared. Was Dean done with him now? Trying to lift his aching head from the floor he wanted to look up but found that he couldn’t. Both because of the physical effort required – but also because he couldn’t bear to look at his brother right now. And Dean was quick to get to his feet, black glare fixed on the open door and eyes narrowing.

  
“I’ll be right back, Sammy. You just stay right there,” he whispered lowly, voice flat and cold. And then he began to stalk towards the door, jaws tense and lips pressed into a thin and angry line. But before he could take a second step, Sam was clinging to his leg, his arms wrapped around it in a grip almost hard enough to actually stop him for real.

  
“No!!” he rasped and dug his fingers into the denim of the jeans. Even though his head was pounding to the extent where it turned his vision into one big, gray blur he had somehow managed to gather just enough strength to move his limbs. An angry huff escaped Dean as he shot his brother a dark glance:

  
“Haven’t you had enough?” he just said - and then he tore his leg away and out of Sam’s grip with a quick yank. As the fabric slipped out between his fingers, the young Winchester blindly struggled to move, to grab Dean’s leg again.

  
“Dean!! P-Please! Please, leave her alo—“

  
“Shut up!” Dean hissed, cutting Sam off as his boot collided with his side, knocking the wind out of him. The kick was hard enough to flip the young hunter on to his back, and the sound of a rib snapping seemed horrifically loud in the otherwise quiet room. A short, guttural sound managed to slip out of Sam's mouth just before the back of his head hit the linoleum, pain exploding like a shockwave throughout his body. And then he fell silent, every muscle in his body going lax.

  
“Fuckin’ insatiable, aren’t you?” Dean grumbled as he stared down at him. Squinting he studied him for a few moments as he lay there, sprawled on the floor. His eyes were closed, cracked lips slightly parted while his chest slowly moved up and down. Even though his entire body was littered with bruises, cuts and welts he looked almost peaceful. Even the ever-present wrinkle of worry between his eyebrows seemed to have disappeared, muscles relaxed now. 

  
“Sleep tight, Sammy,” Dean said, exhaling deeply as he tilted his head to the side a little, making his neck give off a small crackle. And then he turned and walked towards the door, leaving his unconscious little brother behind.


	3. Chapter 3

The paint-chipped walls were rushing past you in a blur, melting together with the dim orange light from the outdated strip lamps in the ceiling. Your bare feet were giving off slaps against the old linoleum floor as you ran down the narrow corridor, barely registering that your muscles were so full of lactic acid that they wanted to just give up and let you fall to the ground. 

  
You didn’t know how long you had been running. It probably wasn’t long – but it sure as hell felt like it. The way you were sprinting down one long stretch of corridor after the other left you feeling breathless and your lungs were stinging almost as if you were inhaling acid – but you couldn’t tell if it was because of the physical exertion or because you were so scared that you were hyperventilating. Either way, you could feel yourself beginning to slow down ever so slowly as your body began to protest, to go on strike one muscle fiber at a time.

  
Where the hell was the exit? It felt like you had been searching for it for hours – but all you found were a few locked doors here and there and just endless corridors. You didn’t even know where you were. Last thing you remembered was these two guys helping you out of that alleyway and getting you to safety. Talking about ‘demons’ and ‘signs’ and how they needed to keep you safe for a little while. At first, you thought they were crazy, had contemplated if maybe they were some escaped nutjobs from the local loony bin. You had even considered calling the police as they had walked you towards this sleek-looking black Chevrolet apparently belonging to the one called Dean. But something about the way these two brothers talked and the way they looked at you had convinced you that they really weren’t the bad guys. They just seemed… trustworthy somehow. Safe. Unlike what you faced in that alley. To be honest you would have gone with anyone at that point, done anything to escape the horror of what had happened there. If Dean and Sam hadn’t come along you would be long dead, that was for sure. And so, you had driven off with them, away from that godforsaken place. You remembered that they had even cracked some silly jokes, trying to lighten your mood a little and get you to relax just a tiny bit. You even remembered Dean’s eyes smiling at you in the rearview mirror, how incredibly green they were when the sun’s rays hit them. You had parked somewhere that you didn’t recognize and couldn’t even recall now. Some industrial-looking area. And that’s when Dean had suddenly acted weird and his eyes had turned all black and... and… and what? You honestly couldn’t remember. Only some scattered memories of various confusing scenery, emotions and sounds flashed through your mind. But they were only glimpses. Nothing that could help you piece together what had taken place, how you had gotten here. Or even where ‘here’ was. All you knew was that you had woken up in that awful room to a fight between the brothers and then… You shuddered internally as you forced the thought out of your mind.

  
God, you prayed that Sam would be alright. That Dean hadn’t killed him. New tears welled up in your eyes by the thought of how selflessly he had acted, how he had basically sacrificed himself to that monster claiming to be his brother just to protect you. He didn’t even know you. After all you had only spent half a day with them before Dean had… changed. An ice-cold shiver ran down your spine even though you were covered in sweat from head to toe.

  
Rounding a corner you sprinted down yet another corridor, trying not to stumble on your own feet in the process. It was hard to run with your hands cuffed behind your back. It felt strange and unnatural and your arms being restricted seemed to somehow affect the movement of your legs as well, making them feel awkward and harder to control. 

  
Nearly tripping you let out a gasp as your eyes scanned the corridor, looking for an exit. Any exit. But the off-white walls with the chipped paint offered none. Only more corridors. But you had to get out of here, had to get help. For Sam. Even though you didn’t really know him you knew that you were in his debt. In fact, you probably owed him your life. And you couldn’t seem to forget the look in his eyes once Dean had turned his attention to him. That look would haunt you forever if you didn’t repay him. If you didn’t get him out of here and made his sacrifice just somewhat worthwhile… Even though it could never even the score no matter what you did. 

  
As you passed some water pipes leading from the ceiling to the floor, you noticed that the strip lamps flickered a bit, giving off small bursts of reddish and orange light. As they illuminated the corridor in pulses your gaze fixed on a door to your right. It had an old padlock on it, the metal a brownish tint with a distinctive scrape mark across its front. It looked far too familiar. Wheezing for air you felt how your heart leaped into your throat, and it felt like you were suddenly choking on it. Because you had been here before.

  
A strangled sob escaped you as you slowed down, coming to a halt on the linoleum while you heaved for air. How could this be happening? You had been running for so long, had searched every corner for an exit, checked every door and every lock and taken all sorts of turns - yet still, you were running in circles. 

  
“Fuck!” you burst out under your breath, but the sound came out wheezy and so low that you almost couldn’t hear it yourself. By now your heart was pounding so hard against your sternum that you were sure it was going to give out. One thing was to be scared absolutely senseless – the other was sprinting up and down these endless corridors like a damn athlete. Because you sure as hell wasn’t one. The lactic acid burning in every muscle and your breathless wheezing were proof of that. 

  
Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you looked over your shoulder at the corner you had just rounded while you tried to steady your breathing. _‘Think, think, think!’_ your mind yelled frantically, scrambling to come up with some sort of plan, some way out of here. But how were you going to get out when all doors were locked? You hadn’t even stumbled on a vent or anything of that kind that you might be able to squeeze through. You didn’t even have a place to hide because there was nothing here but bare walls and cold linoleum. Nothing whatsoever.

  
You squeezed your eyes shut when the lights seemed to flicker more intensely, and you tried to gather your thoughts while attempting to get your ragged breathing just somewhat under control. You didn’t want to make any noise. And you definitely couldn’t keep standing here. _“But where do I go?”_ your mind asked and automatically a sob tried to rock you. Because you honestly didn’t have an answer to that.

  
The silence was beginning to sound noisy in your ears like a white static only interrupted by the clinking of the strip lamps in the ceiling every time they flickered. Opening your eyes you tried to calm yourself down, tried to gain some sort of overview of the situation. The room from where you fled wasn’t too far from here, but you couldn’t piece together the route you had taken. Hell, you didn’t remember half the turns you took. But it had to be somewhere to your right, hidden somewhere in the mess of corridors and locked doors. You couldn’t go that way, that was for sure. Maybe you should backtrack and simply try to stay as far away from that room as possible? Maybe that way you would be able to evade the monster long enough to figure a way out of this?

  
Chewing on your lip you tried to slip your hands through the cuffs again and winced when a dull pain radiated from your bruised wrists. The blood had dried by now, leaving a maroon crust to cover your skin. And you still couldn’t escape the damn metal restraints. _‘Of course not,’_ your mind snapped as frustration washed through you, and you scanned your surroundings once again. Maybe you should check the padlock one more time? But you knew that it was to no use because it hadn’t budged one bit the last time you had tried. A shiver ran through you as you stared at the lock, hoping that your glare alone could somehow make it come undone. _‘Don’t be an idiot!’_ your mind hissed at you, panic starting to rise once more when you finally realized just how trapped you were. What the hell were you going to do?

  
A sudden noise from somewhere behind you sent a spike of dread through your body. With a gasp you spun around on your heels to stare at the corner, the shadows shrouding it in semi-darkness only broken by the flickering light from the strip lamps. _‘What the hell was that?’_ your mind shrieked, and automatically you began to back away, not daring to turn your back to whatever might have made that sound. It could have just been one of the water pipes settling or something though. Or maybe it had just been your imagination? You didn’t know. But you sure as hell didn’t feel like finding out. So, you kept backing away and moved slowly towards the next corner, putting your bare feet down carefully in order not to make a single sound. Luckily it was much easier to be silent when barefoot and for the first time since you woke up, you appreciated that you weren’t wearing anything.

  
With your eyes fixed on the shadows in front of you, you felt how your heart was thumping away in your chest hard enough to almost blur your vision a bit with each beat. Did you just hear another noise? Or was your mind playing tricks on you? Breathless you kept backing away carefully, your mind a swirl of all kinds of panicked thoughts. If only your hands were free you would at least have a small chance of defending yourself – or find something to pry open the padlock with. But restrained like this you were completely helpless, completely vulnerable. And you knew it all too well.

  
Trying to steady your breathing you put one foot down at a time as you walked backwards soundlessly. You felt almost cross-eyed from staring at the shadows in front of you, and you couldn’t help but think of Sam again. What if Dean was going to kill him? Or worse? What if you ended back up in that room and the monster used you against him again, making him do all kinds of—

  
“Boo!”

  
A shriek instantly ripped from your throat by the sudden outburst – and in the same moment, your back hit something hard and warm. All color drained from your face and you spun around so fast that you lost your balance, tripping on your own feet. But as the linoleum floor came rushing towards you strong fingers wrapped around your arm, keeping you standing upright – and you found yourself staring directly into a vast plane of checkered flannel.

  
“Where’re you going?” a familiar voice rumbled from somewhere deep in the chest hiding behind the flannel shirt, and you flicked your gaze up. It felt like your legs were going to give way beneath you, like you were going to drop to the floor in a boneless heap as soon as your eyes fixed on his.

  
“Didn’t think you could run from me, did you?” Dean asked. A panicked squeak escaped you, and automatically you tried to pull out of his grasp.

  
“No, none of that now, kitten,” he said, tightening his grip around your arm hard enough to bruise. Snapping for air your chest seemed to tighten and your throat was constricting, and for a second or two you were completely unable to breathe.

  
“I am very… _very_ disappointed in you,” Dean whispered and placed his other hand on your shoulder, squeezing it almost as hard as he was squeezing your arm. Wincing you flinched, but other than that you didn’t move. You weren’t sure if you could. Every muscle seemed to have liquefied and frozen to the spot you just struggled to breathe, to gather your thoughts even though it was pretty much an impossible task. The lights flickered faster now and in the pulses of orange Dean looked close to diabolical, his lips curved up into a weird mix between and snarl and a smile.

  
“L-Let me go…” you heard yourself whine, but it was barely audible. It just sounded like a shrill sort of whisper. And you didn’t know why you said it in the first place because you very well knew that the man in front of you wasn’t about to let you walk out of here. Not even close. 

  
“And end the fun already? Don’t be silly,” Dean said and pulled you closer to him with a sudden yank. Before you knew it you were pressed flush against his chest, your cheek resting on the soft flannel of his shirt. For a moment you were surprised that you could actually hear a heartbeat in there, thumping a steady staccato as you felt his chest heave ever so slightly.

  
“Please…” you whispered into the checkered fabric, turning it damp from both your breath and the tears that had begun to escape your eyes. A sigh escaped Dean, and you couldn’t tell what it meant. You didn’t get the time to think about it any further though, because suddenly a hand was placed on the top of your head and you instantly tensed.

  
“Nah,” Dean just said, and you shook when he began to card his fingers through your hair. He did it in an almost passionate way, and you couldn’t stop a whimper from tumbling out your mouth when your blood ran cold from this strange act of pseudo-kindness. It felt like all blood in your body had turned into solid ice by his touch, goosebumps forming everywhere on your naked body. _‘He’s not gonna let you go,’_ the tiny voice in your head shrieked in a fresh wave of horror, stating the obvious.

  
“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you, kitten?” he then purred and you squeezed your eyes shut when you felt his fingers begin to tighten their grip on your hair.

  
“And bad girls need to be punished,” he whispered, something predatory creeping into the gravelly voice. Frozen in the unwanted embrace you kept still, just sucking in one panicked breath after the other as he held you close to his chest. What was he going to do?

  
“Let’s go back and see how Sammy’s holding up, shall we? I bet he missed you!” Dean said and a low chuckle escaped him, rumbling up through his chest to vibrate against your cheek. Nausea instantly rolled through you and made your stomach flip as your mind reeled, everything coming to a screeching halt inside your head. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be. It was too insane, too cruel. And you couldn’t go back there. You couldn’t go back to that room, couldn’t be played against Sam like that again… You couldn’t do that. But you knew that was exactly what was going to happen if Dean had his way.

  
“No…” you whimpered into the flannel, your shoulders lightly trembling when a sob tried to rock you. Instantly you felt the hard muscles under the shirt tense a little.

  
“What??” Dean’s voice asked – and he yanked at your hair, forcing your head back a little to look at you. A low mewl escaped you, but you couldn’t resist the pull. You had no choice but to let him tilt your head backwards as he towered above you, sending you a pitch-black glare that made your skin crawl and your breath hitch. Narrowing his eyes at you he inhaled deeply – almost as if he was trying to calm himself down.

  
“Don’t push me, kitten,” he said flatly. The warning made your tongue feel like it was suddenly sticking to the roof of your mouth, so dry that you couldn’t even swallow. It was beyond obvious that Dean was angry. That he was running out of patience. Your heart sank in your chest as your mind spun wildly, making the demon slightly sail before your eyes and turn into a blurry blob of flesh tones and shadows. Or maybe it was just the tears in your eyes that made him look all washed out. Either way, you knew that this was it. You weren’t going to get out of here. And you were out of options.

  
Taking a shaky breath you forced yourself to look up at the creature in front of you. As soon as your eyes locked on his your heart did a painful double beat, felt like it was doing somersaults in your chest. Dean just glared back at you, his jet black eyes glinting in the pulses of orange light and looking like two endless voids of pure evil. Visibly trembling you let your lips part, fighting not to break eye contact:

  
“No.”

  
The word came out low, but surprisingly even. You had expected your voice to crack, but somehow it didn’t and for some strange reason it kind of felt like a tiny victory. Immediately Dean’s facial expression went from smug to surprised – and then from surprised to furious. As his brows knitted themselves together and a snarl tugged on his lips he yanked at your hair again, pulling a few strands right out of your scalp.

  
“You just don’t know when to shut up, do you?! But let me tell you something, bitch…” he hissed and leaned down to stare into your face, black eyes narrowed into small slits:

  
“Just for that you’re gonna get on your knees right now and if you suck my cock real good – and I mean _real_ fuckin’ good - I might—”

  
His flow of words instantly ceased when scattered drops of saliva hit his face, small globs hitting his cheek and clinging to it in clear bubbles. For a split second, he looked truly stunned, just staring at you blankly like he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had just spat on him. But it didn’t last long. As you wheezed for air you could see the transition all too clearly – the way his expression morphed from disbelief into rage.

  
“No,” you repeated – and you were surprised at how collected you sounded. Not breaking eye contact you suppressed a shiver when a furious growl echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the walls and amplifying in volume as it traveled. And then you felt two hands wrapping themselves around your neck.

  
“That’s how you wanna play, you fuckin’ whore?! Huh?!” Dean snarled, shaking you hard enough for your teeth to chatter.

  
“Oh, you’re gonna regret that! I’m gonna make you wish you never—ugghh!!” he burst out, abruptly cut off when your knee collided with his groin. Instantly he buckled, his legs giving way a little as he automatically covered his junk, stumbling backwards a bit. With his mouth open and his face red, he let out a pained grunt, now supporting himself against the wall as he glared daggers at you.

  
You shuddered, wanting to avoid looking into those diabolical eyes – but you knew that you had to. It was the only way, and if you faltered now you would never be able to forgive yourself. So, instead of turning on your heels to run you stayed where you were, trapped hands balled into fists and tears welling up in your eyes to spill down your cheeks and stain the linoleum below. You running wouldn’t help anyone anyway.

  
“Fuck…!” Dean growled – almost roared – and his face contorted into a grimace of pure aggression as he straightened himself back up. Exposing his teeth in an animalistic snarl he then shot forwards, moving so quickly that your eyes couldn’t pick up on it in the dim light. You felt him before you saw him, big hands grabbing you by the neck hard enough to squeeze your windpipe shut. A strangled sound escaped you, but you kept staring at him defiantly even though the corners of your vision were quickly starting to turn black. He was glaring at you, lips twitching and eyes glazed over by fury. Apparently, you were playing your cards right. Your heart did another weird type of acrobatics in your chest by that realization, and you knew that it was time. Time to play the ace up your sleeve.

  
Feeling strangely calm you forced the corners of your mouth to curve up into a small smile as you stared right back at Dean. You almost couldn’t see him anymore because your tunnel vision had grown so strong that only a small area the size of a pinhead was still visible somewhere in the middle, and you knew that you were about to pass out from lack of oxygen.

_  
‘Do it,’_ the little voice in your head said even though your basic instincts were desperately trying to talk you out of it, trying to make your body kick and thrash. But you managed to stay still. _‘Do it,’_ the voice repeated – and this time it sounded almost encouraging. It kind of reminded you of your mother’s voice. Calm and reassuring. 

  
Still wearing that small smile you fought to make your lips form the two words, tried to make sure to mouth them as clearly as you possibly could. You could feel the tendons and cartilage in your throat lightly crackle in Dean’s hard grip as you spat the silent words at him: ‘FUCK YOU.’

  
The little pinhead of light in your field of vision allowed you to see the words hit home – the demon’s mouth opening in a furious roar, teeth glinting in the orange light. And you kept staring at him. Kept wearing the smile. As his black eyes narrowed even more and his loud roar exploded to reverberate around you, bouncing off the walls, you felt his fingers tighten their grip. And as pain began to zing through you your smile suddenly turned genuine, slowly widening. Because at that moment you knew that his temper had gotten the better of him, blunt fingertips digging into your throat and starting to crush it. Time had slowed down, split seconds feeling like minutes as the pressure around your neck increased and sent a wave of excruciating pain through you when blood vessels burst and cartilage cracked. There was no going back from here. This was the end. Your only way out, the ultimate ticket to freedom. And Dean was giving it to you in the perfect fit of rage.

  
It felt strange. You never imagined that this was what dying feels like. It hurt like hell, but for some reason you couldn’t describe you didn’t really care. And you didn’t feel scared anymore either. Actually you felt strangely calm about it even though your mind flickered back and forth between awareness and nothing, like a light switch being flipped on and off repeatedly. And you knew that very soon that switch would stay off. It was a matter of seconds. Even the best doctor wouldn’t be able to save you now - that was for sure - because your larynx was crushed and your lungs quickly filling with blood. You knew that the thought should probably mortify you, but it didn’t. Instead, you felt a sort of acceptance. A feeling of accomplishment, even. Because this was _your_ doing for once. Not his. _You_ had made this choice for yourself. And for Sam. This was the best option for both of you, and _you_ had made it happen. _You_ had beat the demon. It might be a Pyrrhic victory, but it was yours – and you hoped that it would help Sam as much as it helped you, freeing him of the guilt and responsibility weighing him down as long as you were around. With you gone at least he stood a chance. 

  
The smile on your lips managed to widen even more despite the blood spilling out between them, dark and bubbling and tasting like iodine. And as the small pinhead of light shrunk and gave way to darkness, hiding the monster from your field of vision, you felt your mind flicker and buzz and fill with a weird, white static. Kind of like an old TV screen from the eighties, drizzled with digital snow. It looked like one too, you realized. Wait, had your vision returned? You didn’t remember the surroundings being so bright, but the pinhead-sized view probably wasn’t lying. Where was Dean though? And where was that strange light coming from? Why was it expanding so fast, coming towards you in a brilliant burst of white? Oh, wait, maybe… maybe this was how heaven was supposed to— 


End file.
